With Every Stone The Sixth Sense
by TaoStars309
Summary: An account of Tzipporah's Life before the raid that annihilated her home.


As she sat in the darkened palace of Tartarus, Tzipporah wondered how she could have fallen from grace so quickly. She looked at the rolling sands within the distance of her dwelling as she placed her ebony hand upon the withered stone columns that the Goddess collected as trophies. The corpses of the fallen and the evidence of once glorious empires were strewn for a lengthy distance before being covered with sand. It was uncertain how long her contractor had plagued this world that she worshipped and praised through most of her life. She then heard a giggle in the distance. She questioned who could be giggling in this dreary sanctum. She moved around the pillars to see a playful, beautiful woman playing within a bath. Tzipporah carefully maneuvered through the rock and bones to her friend, who played with the bubbles that floated around her. The red head blew a handful up into the air and, as Tzipporah neared, some toward the ebony beauty as well. Tzipporah laughed and all her worries of how she had came to be this way, faded within the brilliantly colored foam of the beautiful teen's bath.

* * *

"Poppa! Poppa!", shouted a young girl the age of 12 as she ran from the hills to her father. He turned from the sheep he tended to and smiled at his beloved first born daughter. She ran into her fathers humble robes and hugged him, lovingly and looked him into the eye, before taking his large hand. "Mamma is birthing. You must come see father. Ruth has told me not to return without you."

The tall man smiled and rubbed his daughter's head tenderly. "Yes, Tzipporah, we may go. We have to hurry or Ruth will be even more upset." He stated as he began to walk his daughter back up the steep hill. He saw a young man who was talking to another gypsy maiden. Her father separated them with the Shepard's staff in his right hand. The young woman bowed her head and turned to pick up her gourd to fill it with water despite the young male's protesting gaze. The leader tossed the staff to him and Tzipporah clung to her father's hand. "Tend to the flock. Your mind should be on the Earth and you shall be rewarded with a just and worthy woman. Mother Earth always rewards the hard-working." He stated.

The young man nodded and disappeared down the steep hill in which they had just come. Tzipporah clung to her father's hand as they walked toward a large tent within the midst of the wonderful colors of cloth, wagons and people. Women of the group were working on looms as others took care of children and sang to provide solace to the men, who grieved over the day's catch from a nearby river. There were men butchering for the night, making clothes and shoes as well as helping the women with the cleaning of tents. Many women flooded around the opening of the large tent as pained screams echoed the area around it. The large man saw two younger girls. The taller one wore purple garments as her thick, long hair bounced within the wind, while the second wore maroon and gold. Tzipporah wore sea green as was the nature of her people to wear colors that expressed their personalities. The man let go of her hand as the youngest born tried to fight the elder women to get in.

"Lacho deves." The leader stated. The women looked up and so did his youngest daughter who was crying. The tears coated her eyes as she looked at the towering giant. "Lacho deves, Rrom baro." The women said faintly as they bowed their heads. The little girl ran to her father's robes and gripped them tightly. He smiled and picked up his darling daughter. "My dear Lyuba, why do you cry on this wonderful of days?" He questioned. The little girl rubbed her eyes and looked at her father. She was too quiet to speak up when a woman took her into her arms. The woman comforted her as the young Tzipporah opened the beautiful colored tapestries to see a lot of the elderly women around a younger woman with a pained look on her face. Tzipporah smiled and wandered into the tent as the women called for her to push. Tzipporah sat next to her and took a wet towel to wipe her mother's face. The woman turned to look at her and a faint smile crossed her lips.

"Tzipporah, where is your father?" She asked. Tzipporah pointed just outside the tent and it opened to reveal the large man. An elderly woman stood up and pushed the honored leader. "You are late! Where have you been? Your wife has been calling for you for hours!" She shouted. Tzipporah giggled as her father was reprimanded for not charging the younger men to take care of the flock. Tzipporah was rushed out of the tent and she waited patiently with her sisters. She worked on the loom while her sisters waited, listening to the pain of the birthing.

"How can you listen to this so easily, Tzipporah?" Her younger sister asked.

"Well, Mirela. It is not the first time I have heard it. You, Lala, and Lyuba were born when I was young so I grew up listening to mother crying from the pain." Tzipporah stated as she weaved the colored wool between each other.

Her sisters looked at each other as Lyuba brushed the sands that had collected on her doll. Hours later, the screams died until a faint cry was heard within the tent. Tzipporah was half-way through her weaving and her father opened the curtain for the elder women to leave except Renisma. Tzipporah and her sisters walked in to see their mother sound asleep as the infant was washed in a small woven basket. Tzipporah walked to the baby as her sisters crowded around their sleeping mother. She watched Renisma clean the blood off and her father came with a beautiful teal scarf. The baby was dried off and was covered within the scarf. This was the last birth that Tzipporah would listen to as she gazed upon her youngest sister whose name became Simza, the joy of her parents. Tzipporah looked at her sister and as her father took the baby girl into his arms. In a hushed tone, he whispered a prayer for the child. As Tzipporah watched, a faint golden glow passed from her father's hands into her younger sister. The baby remarkable opened her eyes to reveal an unusual color for her people. Simza's eyes were silver.

Jethro left the tent for his duties were to be sure everything was taken care of for the celebration of a successful birth. Tzipporah followed and took her father's robe, causing him to stop.

"Poppa, what did you do to the baby?" She asked.

"What are you talking about, my dearest?" He asked, in a kind voice but the undertone was laden with concern.

"I saw the glow, father. What did you do for Simza?" Tzipporah questioned quietly.

Jethro led Tzipporah away to a cave hidden just behind the grazing fields. He took her hand and sat her down. He kissed her forehead gently and smiled.

"You have the eyes. Tzipporah, what I will tell you is very important. In the next years of your life, you will meet others like you. You are one of few people who have been blessed by God. It may be because you were born differently that you must be on your guard. There are others who will seek to take this power." Jethro stated.

"Like who, Poppa?" Tzipporah asked.

"You will know. I cannot tell you but I know that God has a plan for you." Her father said.

Tzipporah watched her father leave to his heard and she looked at the smoothed cave in which she sat. Her eyes wandered each crease that was made by the wind that danced around it. She felt the cool whisper of it and raised her hand as if it were being pulled by the air. She wished she could talk to the elements. They could teach her and her people so much more than they already knew. Tzipporah felt her hair freely dance within the unseen fingers of the wind and looked out of the cave. She smiled to herself. The world was her home. She must teach those to respect it like she had done since her birth.


End file.
